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Houstonians
gather
for the 1987 march
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• 1987
MARCH ON WASHINGTON
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WE'VE GOT AIDS AND SOMETHING
MUST BE DONE
DEBORAH
BELL
The
march in ’87 was “we’ve got AIDS and
something must be done.” When you’re under
the most oppression is when you’re the most free
to be revolutionary, because what do you have to lose?
It
is one of the most incredible things I ever did, going
to the march. I had been to other marches that NOW had
done—in 1978 for the extension of the Equal Rights
Amendment, for example—and some pro-choice marches....
The ’87 march was inspirational, it made me feel
it was real important to be involved if there was another
march. (I didn’t even know the ’79 march had
happened because I wasn’t out yet, and because
there was so little publicity.)
I marched with the NOW contingent, nine of us staying
in one apartment. There were all of these intertwined
relationships, exes of exes.
There
was this gathering of the tribe, of the queer nation.
We walked from my friend’s apartment. We got on
the bus, and there were other people going to the march.
Then when we got on Metro, here was this whole carfull
of queers. And then when you got off the train, and
it was just, “My people!” ...There was just
thousands and thousands of queers.
A
lot of us decided we should have a march on Austin after
that. It happened two years later, in ’89, and
it was the biggest of the marches on Austin. “We’re
here, we’re queer, you have to deal with us, we’re
not going away.”
That
was the march where the quilt got unfolded. It was early
morning where there was fog, and an unfolding ceremony
like a dance. There was total silence, the names were
being read. And they had to get a lot of people to read
the names because there were so many.
TOM
FRICKE (owner
of The Lovett Inn)
When
I heard about the march, I thought, what the hell. I
was living in New Jersey at the time, and I didn’t
go to any gay bars. I had some friends, but I wasn’t
in a community. I had gone to the one gay bar in College
Station. The march was like fag city—it was the
first real experience I had where I was in a community,
and it was eyeopening. It was such a moving experience,
it was like us being who we were.
The
park police say that there are 10,000 people here when
there’s more like a million people. What are they,
blind?—there’s 10,000 people on this block.
OutSmart:
What was seeing the quilt like?
I’ve always been a keeping-my-emotions-to-myself
type person, making jokes instead of letting people
see how I felt. So I was saying a little sarcastically,
“Oh noo, we’re going to have to get the Kleenex
out now.” But as we walked down, I never dreamed
that I’d feel the way I did. It’s almost like
some sort of miracle. And that in our community—where
we can’t do a f---ing thing—that we’d
pull that off. It’s definitely divine intervention.
When you go down there, you feel a spiritual presence.
After
we got back, we came to Houston to visit. I realized
that I was just treading water there in New Jersey—this
isn’t really what we want to be doing. So I started
looking for a place where we could be out and have community—not
be like in New Jersey where we had some gay friends,
but that was it.
The
march caused me to focus on that I was gay and I wanted
to be with gay people—within six months of the
march, I was living in Houston. I realized, I want this,
I want this every day.
JACK
VALINSKI
(executive director of the Pride Committee, and executive
producer of Lesbian and Gay Voices; 18 years with the
Pride Committee or Gay Pride Week in some capacity)
I
travelled with Phyllis Frye, and she took the Texas
flag with her. They’d opened up the Metro early
just for the march. We changed at Metro Central, all
those concrete walls, and the only people in the subway
were for the march. Phyllis opened up the flag, and
people started screaming—you know how people in
Texas just go wild—and it was echoing off those
walls. It was wild.
The
women did the majority of the behind-the-scenes technical
work because they had the know-how from running women’s
festivals.
Just
stepping out is a political act. I tell people; you
know, there’s somebody around the corner who may
be looking out who’s not brave enough yet to join.
...Pacifica
[radio] covered it live in ’87 and ’93. Pacifica
screwed up, and didn’t get their live line. So
they’d bike it by messenger over to the NPR [National
Public Radio] uplink and have a two-hour delay. I helped
with part of the coverage in ’93. The anchors were
Larry Bentsky and Kate Clinton—I was pretty intimidated.
’87
was such an eyeopener—the fact that we were able
to reach people from practically everywhere in the country.
In
’93, L.A. was supposed to be the last to start
off—and they just decided they didn’t want
to wait, and picked a different route.
REV.
CAROLYN MOBLEY (associate pastor at MCCR)
I was living in
Atlanta, and went with the African-American Lesbian
Gay Alliance. There were 20 (may say 70, better check)
or so of us African-American women marching together...making
a strong presence.
RAY
HILL
’87
was the year of all the barebreasted women. We weren’t
expecting tits, but we had tits with stickers on them.
Serious tits. [“I don’t like the word ‘tits’
and here I am having to write it 23 times,” complained
Ann, who was taking the notes of Ray’s interview.]
Breasts [Ray modified himself]. Breasts with a message.
We were all there doing mammary checks.
In
terms of consciousness-raising, shock value still works.
At
the Fairy Camp at the Rainbow Gathering on July 4, 1985
(at a camp that was significant for being the furthest
from a paved road in the U.S.), we sat around and said
we need to do another march. Men and women, the time
is right. Steve Ault and myself coming out of the anti-war
movement, we had the only experience in organizing.
PHYLLIS
FRYE
On the way to the
march, when I went down into the Metro tunnel, the crowd
was 100-percent queer. I unfurled my Texas flag and
the crowd went nuts! They went crazy. It just energized
them. and I don’t think that any of them were even
Texans.
Brian Keever and I led the Texas section with a young
man who had AIDS, with a friend pushing his wheelchair.
We
did a civil disobedience at the Supreme Court on Monday
following the march.... It was the centennial of the
Statue of Liberty. I remember how bitter I was. Bowers
vs. Hardwick [the case upholding the sodomy laws in
Georgia] was decided on June 30. A few days later, the
nation celebrated the centennial of the Statue of Liberty.
Then, a few days later Baker vs. Wade [the Texas sodomy
case] was decided against the queer communtiy, on July
7. It was obvious that America’s freedom was not
for the queer community.
Brian
Keever organized the civil disobedience. We wanted to
make sure nobody was left in jail, that everyone was
only charged with a minor misdemeanor. So everybody
had to sign up and be trained....
There
was a big crowd. The capital police were in riot gear
with rubber gloves. Time after time, as orchestrated,
a wave of people would walk up on the Supreme Court
steps, circle hands, be arrested, and led off. Everyone
was released within the day.
The
civil disobedience was covered on the networks. It energized
the people who did it. ACT-UP may have formed shortly
after that march. There was a lot more civil disobediance
after that march.
Lots
of people were encouraged to stay after and lobby members
of Congress. So Tuesday we went to the Texas delegation
[in Congress]. Let them know that we were queer and
we were here.
March
on Washington intro
•1979 •1993
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